


June 21st

by Miso



Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: (kinda), Birthday Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Subspace, Surprise Party, also im really really bad at tags, this started as fluff and then turned into porn im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 22:47:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11240883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: It's Floyd's birthday. He doesn't have a lot of nice history with them.





	June 21st

**Author's Note:**

> ive been working on this on-and-off since april rip me. it started as just a cute idea but then OOPS. :'D only appropriate that it ends up posted just a few days before floyd's birthday (in my headcanon) then i suppose!!!

Floyd had never really been fond of birthdays. Growing up, his family couldn't really afford them- and it wasn't like Bill Robertson was going to bother with all of that effort for anyone but his favorite child anyway. As a young adult fresh out of the army, his idea of a good time on his birthday was drinking more than was healthy and having an anonymous hookup with someone he met at whatever gay bar he drifted into that night.

But now, here he was, turning 40 and celebrating it with actual friends and loved ones. Well, friends; Falbo, her girlfriend, and whoever else from work he felt he could tolerate. Loved ones, he couldn't really argue. Earl had practically torn his hair out over Floyd's assertion that he didn't want to do anything special, then when Floyd eventually agreed to a celebration he'd insisted it be small and annoyed Earl even more. "Seriously?! You only turn 40 once and you're just gonna let it go by?" he'd said, in that adorably hysterical voice he did when he either wanted to be over dramatic or was legitimately pissed. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

So far, though, it had been a nice day. He'd been roused from a surprisingly sound sleep not by his alarm but by a gentle kiss on his forehead. When he opened his eyes, just a bit, he was greeted with Earl, smiling sweetly at him with nothing but adoration. "Good morning," he'd whispered, before leaning in for a kiss that led to slow, intoxicating sex, the kind of good-morning-slash-happy-birthday sex Floyd thought only existed in trashy romance novels. Afterward, Earl had kissed him again, and breathed, "I love you so much." Floyd felt his heart swell and had to force back tears as he whispered "I love you, too."

Even work had been pleasant so far. The few people he'd allowed Earl to invite had wished him a happy birthday. Edith Prickley presented him with a cupcake (chocolate, with vanilla frosting and made with coffee to intensify the chocolate flavor) and said "I would have baked a whole cake but you try having two teenage boys in the same house as a cake." Floyd didn't mind. The gesture was nice.

Falbo had walked past him sitting in the break room reading and smacked him on the back of the head and said "Happy birthday, dickhead." Floyd had smiled and said "Thanks, you giant bitch," in response. He didn't see it, but Falbo couldn't help but grin in response. That was the Floyd she knew.

Even Caballero had called him into his office and handed him a generous bonus. "You're the best reporter we've had on the news desk in years. Especially since you deal with Camembert. That's your birthday present. Now go pull in those ratings." If only he knew. Floyd had to wonder how Guy hadn't realized that both his and Earl's checks went to the same address, or if he had, how he hadn't made the connection. Then again, he wasn't sure Caballero was even aware that most of his staff was about as straight as a mountain road.

Sammy Maudlin and Bobby Bittman operated as a unit and it showed when he received a birthday card signed by both of them with a voucher for a free meal for two at the Beef and Booze inside, not delivered in person but left on his desk for him to find presumably during lunch break. A surprisingly thoughtful gesture from people who didn't know him at all in Bobby's case and only heard what Earl mentioned in Sammy's. Floyd couldn't help but laugh a little at Sammy's childish, uncoordinated signature next to Bobby's flourishing, obnoxious, flamboyant one. Sometimes Floyd wondered how no one pegged Bittman for gay before he and Sammy got together. (Then again, was he gay? Or bi? No one was really sure. Not even Bobby.)

For the first time in eons, Earl actually left work before Floyd did. He made up some bullshit excuse that Floyd only half-listened to and rushed out of the newsroom with a peck on Floyd's cheek and a soft "See you at home." He didn't mind. Most other days he'd be wondering what the fuck had Earl out of there so quickly, and from there he'd head into a tailspin of booze and anger and fear of abandonment. Today, though? He was just looking forward to coming home to a kiss.

He had expected a kiss when he got home. Floyd hadn't, however, expected that kiss to be followed by half of his coworkers, including ones Earl hadn't mentioned inviting (but that Floyd could thankfully deal with being around for a while), swarming him like bees and singing. Unsure of what to do, he stood there frozen with an awkward smile, before excusing himself to change out of his work clothes.

Floyd returned to the party a bit more collected. Falbo launched herself onto his back, piggyback style, and gave him one hell of a noogie before dislodging herself and smirking. Floyd gave her a dirty look, then smiled back and smoothed his hair. Yeah, he'd expected her to do something like that. She was like a sister to him and her being so goddamned tiny allowed her to do things like that.

The festivities lasted late into the balmy early summer night, but probably not as late as some would have liked. By the time everyone had actually cleared out, the dishes were done, and Earl and Floyd had the house to themselves, it was practically midnight. Floyd sank onto the couch in the darkened living room, lit only by dim blue TV light, exhausted and rubbing his temples. He wasn't drunk, but he felt alright. Genuinely okay. That was unusual. Sober Floyd usually had at least some anger, some hatred in him somewhere that negated all joy he could feel. Sober Floyd was a short-tempered dickhead with anxiety problems who clung to his boyfriend almost much as his boyfriend clung to him if not more. Sober Floyd wouldn't normally be sitting on the living room couch with a shitty B-movie on the tube with a bruise from a surprisingly tough Falbo play-punch and feeling like not everything was hopeless bullshit.

Then again, Sober Floyd normally wouldn't be sitting here at all. He'd be shitty Drunk Floyd, balls deep in a bottle of whiskey and bitching about how terrible his life has been and going down the "reasons I hate myself" checklist he had in his brain. Sober Floyd would have faded into obscurity the second he got home from work. He would have turned into Pissed Off Floyd who would have turned into Panic Attack Floyd who would have sooner or later slipped into Drunk Floyd.

Floyd didn't really notice he'd zoned out until he felt warmth on his shoulders, then an arm slide around him. "You alright?" Earl asked softly, brushing his fingertips gently over Floyd's forearm. His touch was feather-light and soft. Tender. Floyd bit his lip and felt the same thing he had that morning when he'd had a sated and beautiful Earl laying atop him and kissing him and telling him he loved him. The metaphor felt inappropriate in the middle of June, but his heart grew three sizes, like that dopey Dr. Seuss cartoon Earl insisted they watch every single Christmas even though it held no nostalgic value for either of them.

"Floyd...?" Earl whispered, his voice low and gentle. Despite his best efforts, Floyd couldn't help himself anymore. He let out a choked sob. "Floyd, baby, what's wrong...?" Earl was starting to sound legitimately concerned, even scared. "Did... did we do something wrong...? Are you upset?"

"No." Floyd's voice was harsh, choked, but the smile playing at his lips betrayed his true feelings. "I'm not." He wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist, maybe a little harshly. "Fuck, Earl, I'm just... I'm so happy." He pulled Earl into his arms and kissed his face everywhere he could reach. "I love you." A kiss. "I love you." Another. "I love you." Another. "I love you so goddamned much..."

Earl just smiled a little and returned the final kiss on his lips. As much as he wished it didn't, Floyd's warmth and closeness sent a tiny stir to his cock. "I love you, too," he breathed, as the kiss broke. "Happy birthday, baby." He opened his mouth to speak again, but the only noise that came out was a startled squeak as Floyd swept him into his arms and carried him to the bedroom with minimal effort. "Jeez. You never told me you could do that," Earl said, straightening his glasses as he was deposited on the bed.

"Never felt like doing it before," Floyd answered, before pulling his shirt over his head and settling himself atop Earl. He shuddered as Earl's fingertips ran over his chest almost reverently, his cock stirring just a bit at the tender and gentle touch. "God, babe..." he whispered, sliding a hand up Earl's shirt. Well, Earl's; it was another one of Floyd's shirts that at some point had been pilfered from his closet. He didn't mind. It was kind of hot that Earl stole his clothes with some regularity.

Earl nudged Floyd away long enough to remove his shirt and pants, tossing them into a pile halfway across the room. Floyd let out a low, appreciative growl at the view, wrapping a hand around Earl's cock and stroking slowly, almost painfully so, smirking against his lover's neck as Earl gasped and rocked his hips into Floyd's palm. "Fuck..."

"I'm workin' on it, doll, be patient." Floyd purred low in his throat as Earl bucked his hips into his hand again. "God... you're too good to me. Way too good." Floyd's hand left Earl's cock long enough to pop the button on his jeans. Earl shuddered and licked his lips, eyes fixed on the bulge in Floyd's pants. "I don't deserve you."

"I... mmh! B-beg to differ..." Earl gasped softly as Floyd's cock pressed insistently at his thigh. "I-I'm... I'm glad I have you... oh, fuck, Floyd, it's huge..."

"Never said I wasn't glad to have you, doll." Floyd unzipped his fly, slowly, leaving Earl to squirm at both the cessation of touch and the exposure of Floyd's cock. "Just that I didn't deserve you." Floyd slipped his jeans off, kicking them to the side, and lowered himself atop Earl again, kissing him slow and passionate and heavy. He tasted like heaven. Champagne and birthday cake and cherry Chapstick. Hell, he smelled like heaven, like that frou-frou soap he liked and aftershave and... well, like Earl, with the omnipresent coffee smell. Probably because he drank so much of the stuff.

Earl shuddered as their hard cocks brushed for a moment, gripping Floyd's shoulders. As the kiss broke, he whispered, "G-get on your back."

"You wanna top?"

"No, I just... you don't need to do all the work." Earl smiled a little, dreamily. "It's your birthday. Lay back. Let me do it." He wriggled out from under his partner and kissed Floyd softly. "Please?"

"Hey. Don't need to ask me twice." Floyd smirked and lay back, hands behind his head, switching places with Earl as gracefully as possible. Earl licked his lips and went on kissing his way down Floyd's neck and chest, nuzzling the treasure trail that led from his belly button to his erect cock.

"You've got the prettiest dick I've ever seen, y'know?"

"Do I?" Floyd asked, biting his lip as Earl gently licked along its length. "I never thought it was anything special." A lie, really; if nothing else, he knew it was goddamned massive, and almost every man he'd had told him that. "You like it that much?"

"Mmmhm." Earl purred softly as he gently spread a bit of precome over the tip with his thumb. Floyd shuddered deliciously in response. "And not just because it's big." He traced a vein gently with his fingertip and then with his tongue. "It's just... pretty. Like, if they picked a dick to base every single dildo ever on, I'd want it to be yours."

"You're biased."

"Maybe a little." Earl smiled and licked around the prominent, blush-red helmet for just a moment, savoring the salty taste of precome and sweat. "But you have this beautiful head on it. All red and gorgeous." Floyd shivered as Earl traced the ridge with a finger. "This fuckin' thing, god, the first time we fucked I wasn't sure you were gonna get it in."

His tongue slid over another vein, the one on the underside of his cock that was always an especially sensitive spot. "And these gorgeous veins, fuck... you're perfect."

"Y-you talkin' to me or my cock, babe?"

"Both." Earl smiled and scooted himself back up Floyd's body, trembling as the head of Floyd's length brushed against his entrance just a bit. "God. Where'd we leave the lube this morning?"

Floyd cursed quietly and pawed around under the pillows for a second, coming up with a bottle and handing it to Earl. "Figured it got shoved under there." Earl laughed softly as he poured a generous amount into his palm and slicked Floyd's cock gently, licking his lips and swallowing a bit at the quiet hiss Floyd let out.

"I love the sounds you make..."

"Two way street, gorgeous." Floyd smiled a little, stroking his cock as Earl slicked his opening just enough to get Floyd in. "... You sure that's enough?"

"I wanna feel it. Really feel it." Earl moved his still-lubed hand to his own dick and stroked slowly as he positioned his hips just so. "Hold it steady, babe."

The tight heat that enveloped Floyd's length was almost too much to bear from the outset. Earl groaned softly as he settled himself, the friction dancing between pain and pleasure, biting his lower lip. He opened his eyes as he took a deep breath, glancing down at Floyd. A light red flush dusted his cheekbones and chest, his eyes were closed, and his lips were parted just a bit in a soft, breathy moan. Jesus Christ, he was gorgeous. "I wish you could see yourself," Earl murmured, caressing Floyd's cheek as he slowly rocked his hips. "You look so fucking hot..."

Floyd smiled warmly and nuzzled into Earl's palm. "Do I, now? You're not embarrassed to be having sex with an old man?"

"You're only 40."

"Older than you." Floyd groaned softly and dug his fingers into Earl's hips. "Shit, doll..." He let his head drop back against the pillow as Earl rocked his hips, tortuously slowly, savoring every inch of him. "I thought you said to let you do the work, not lay there and let you torture me."

"I wanted to make this romantic." Earl smiled and moved just a touch faster, panting quietly. "But if you want me to fuck your brains out, I won't complain." Floyd shuddered and groaned as his hips bucked upwards. "Or maybe you actually want to take charge?" Earl teased, a smirk playing at his lips. "What is it?"

Floyd, still trembling, glanced up at Earl with a sort of desperate look in his eyes. "Can it be both?" he asked, letting out a low moan as Earl took him especially deep. "Fuck! God, baby..." He felt like he was about to ascend into Heaven. For an unassuming nerd, Earl was _really good_ at sex. Floyd groaned and bucked against the air when Earl slipped off of him, swearing softly. "Fuckin' hell, Earl, what was that for...?"

"I'm not giving you more until you tell me what you want." Earl leaned down and kissed Floyd's neck gently, purring softly. Barely holding back a soft moan when he felt Floyd's cock, still slick and aching, throb and twitch against him, he teasingly nibbled at his boyfriend's pulse. "Which is it, baby? You want me to ride you, or-"

Earl was cut off by a sudden blur of movement. All of a sudden he was on his stomach and Floyd's weight was atop him, panting and impatient breaths ghosting over the back of his neck. "... Well, there's an answer."

"Not too rough, is it?" Floyd asked, the concern in his voice betraying the 'big scary top' image he was trying to project. "I don't want to hurt you." Earl made a noise somewhere between a purr and a groan as the tip of Floyd's cock nudged against his entrance.

"Floyd, fuck, babe, it's fine..." Earl panted softly and rocked his hips back. "Just fuck me..." For his part, in response, Floyd just smirked and kissed Earl's neck gently, before pressing in slowly. Earl groaned and gripped the sheets, knotting his fingers into the fabric, trembling just a bit. "God... you're huge."

"You're spoiled, aren't you?" Floyd asked with a smile, his hips gently thrusting. A little taste of Earl's own medicine before he stopped screwing around and got around to business. "Mm. So tight... fuck. Dunno how you do it."

Earl didn't respond. He wasn't sure he could if he wanted to. His vocabulary, as Floyd began rocking his hips in and out deeper, faster, narrowed from short sentences of pleading need to inarticulate, wordless gasps and moans. "That's it," Floyd rumbled somewhere behind him, as Earl squeaked quietly in surprise and pleasure as a particularly deep thrust threw him off balance slightly, "Don't think. Just feel."

Floyd gently threaded his fingers through Earl's. "Stoplight rules, alright? That work?" Earl was apparently still capable of some coherent thought, as he nodded slightly and gripped Floyd's hand. "Okay. I'm not trying to hurt you."

The matter sorted, Floyd sunk his teeth (gently, not to break the skin) into the nape of Earl's neck and jackhammered into Earl, growling quietly at the sharp gasp and garbled yelp this earned him. God, Earl's noises were so fucking hot... even though they'd very nearly gotten them caught during illicit on-the-clock quickies in studio janitor's closets and edit bays. With his free hand, Floyd reached around Earl's hips to stroke his dick, letting out a soft and almost threatening chuckle. "Jesus, doll," he whispered against Earl's skin, "you're making one hell of a mess and you haven't even come yet." Earl's dick, iron hard and dripping precome (leaving a sticky and uncomfortable wet spot on the sheets), pulsed in Floyd's hand at his words. "You think that's hot?"

A nod.

"Good. I do too." Barely half a second after Floyd finished his sentence, Earl seized around him and cried out, warm drops of semen coating the blankets and Floyd's hand. "Holy shit." Floyd laughed quietly, this time genuinely amused as he paused in his movements. "You alright? What's your color?"

"Green," Earl responded with no hesitation. "Green, oh, god, more, _please..._ "

"Goddamn, Camembert. Usually you're ready to roll over and go to sleep." Floyd began thrusting slowly again, licking his lips and hissing quietly. "I can go jack off if you're done."

"No! No, fuckin' Christ, Floyd, please don't stop!"

"Very well."

Not being drunk- or even vaguely tipsy- apparently did wonders for Floyd's stamina. For another hour, he fucked Earl into the mattress, leaving him a shuddering and babbling mess, sweat-slick and driven nearly insane with an additional two orgasms. It was that third one- punctuated by Earl's muscles gripping Floyd's cock like a vice, a garbled scream of Floyd's name on his lips (and tears on his cheeks, and just a little bit of drool down his chin), and Earl practically collapsing into the mess on the blankets shuddering that drove Floyd over as well. Lowering himself with Earl to the mattress, he thrust into him once, twice more, then let out a bull-like roar of his own as his balls drew up and he came. Earl, a million miles away, groaned quietly, trembling as Floyd filled him so deep he felt like he was about to cry.

Floyd took a moment to catch his breath before pulling out and laying beside Earl, gently rubbing his back. "Hey. Hey, gorgeous." Earl moaned softly in response. "You okay?" A nod. Relief was evident in Floyd's voice as he murmured "Okay, good." Earl sighed a little and managed to stabilize himself long enough to push himself up to his knees. He grimaced a little at the mess he'd made of the blankets.

"Ew." He blushed slightly. "Um... shit, I'm sorry, babe. I'll change the sheets."

"Sorry?" Floyd smiled a little and turned over onto his back, reaching for the cigarettes on his nightstand. He lit one, took a long drag, and exhaled the smoke before saying, "Babe, that was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"... Really?"

"Uh, yeah." Floyd quirked an eyebrow. "You kidding? Can you think of anything sexier than having the cutest guy on the planet come _three times_ because you're fucking him silly? 'Cuz I sure as hell can't."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Earl's blush deepened from pink to magenta. "I... I'm still sorry about the blankets. Like... we can't sleep in that."

Floyd shrugged a little and smiled. "You're talking like we haven't swallowed that before." He put his cigarette in the ash tray and managed to pull himself out of bed despite his fatigued limbs. "If it bothers you that much, doll, we'll put on a new blanket, okay?"

"Mmm." Earl sighed as he got up as well and pulled the sticky blanket off the bed. At least the mess had confined itself to the top layer. Immediately huddling back under the newly-clean sheets once the first blanket had been changed, Earl curled up to Floyd as the latter finished off his cigarette and pulled him close. "You have a nice birthday?"

"... I did." Floyd smiled a little and kissed Earl's forehead. "Thanks, doll. For everything."

Earl returned the smile. "I love you." He yawned and lay down, melting into Floyd's arms as his muscles immediately relaxed. "Happy birthday, baby."

Floyd's smile grew as he let himself relax as well, Earl in his arms, as he finally drifted into slumber with him.


End file.
